


The Lost Lady: An Unexpected Journey

by Kanako_Hime



Series: The Lost Lady [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Balin likes hugs, Bofur is awesome, F/M, Thorin's emotionally constipated as usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 06:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1768078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanako_Hime/pseuds/Kanako_Hime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He turned his head to look down at her, his expression, for one moment, uncertain. And she couldn't stand that look, so she smiled and said, "You may have lost your inheritance, Master Oakenshield... but you haven't lost any of your pride." For just one tiny second out of time, she saw the ghost of a smile curl one side of his mouth – and then his expression smoothed out. <br/>"I suppose, in that, Miss Baggins, you are correct," he replied, "I do have a great deal of pride."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

"Excuse me?" a voice asked softly, tapping lightly on the thin door. "Are you awake, _mellon nin_?"

"Yes, Gwilwileth, I'm up," a woman replied, pausing in the middle of pulling her cream-coloured shoes on. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing urgent, only that a letter has arrived for you," Gwilwileth answered easily as she entered the room, her auburn curls swaying prettily with each step. Her friend took the sheaf of parchment, scanning the writing before a smile lit her face. "Who is is from?" she asked, teasing, "A secret lover? Oh dear! What will your husband say to that!"

"Oh hush!" she giggled, tugging her friend's curls playfully, "It's from the  _Pheriain_! You remember him, don't you?"

"Oh certainly," Gwilwileth quipped, "Bossing us all around left, right and centre, demanding to know where you had gotten to when you should have stayed at home, and  _insisting_  on calling you Aiyna!"

"He still does!" her companion replied laughing, opening the letter easily before glancing up at her friend, "Would you mind if I read this quickly?"

"Of course," Gwilwileth said cheerfully, "I'll be in my chambers if you need me."

Her friend nodded, then lowered her eyes to the roll of parchment in her hands.

" _Ainya_ ," the letter began as she ran her fingers lightly over the surface of the crisp yellow parchment that bore the bold yet graceful characters, " _As I write this to you, I'm sitting near the Brandywine river, fishing for my supper. The sun is glorious, as usual, and the birds are singing.._."

A soft smile spread itself upon pink lips at the image the words conjured.

" _Of course, I'm terribly sorry for not writing sooner - I've been wrapped up in writing that book of mine - you know the one. Well, I simply lost track of time, my girl, and I am sorry for having neglected you._

She grinned at the sincere words as she dipped a hand into a nearby fruit bowl, and biting into the crisp green flesh of the apple she plucked from it.

 _"It's nearly time for the Midsummer Festival again, and everyone is very excited, as usual. Everything stays the same here, my dear girl, and sometimes I almost believe that your gallivanting was nothing but a dream. I can still see your face as clearly as if you were in front of me, and I miss turning around, about to call out for one of your scones, and knowing that you'll be there with one still warm from the oven for me. It has been nearly two years since you last came here. Frodo has been asking after you, wondering when you'll give him those 'lessons' he's always harping on about_."

"When Dwalin wears a dress, Bilbo," she muttered to herself.

 _"But I'm rambling again - it's the old age. Bah. I did have one question for you, my dear - I heard Frodo telling the children one of your stories a few days ago, and while I can say I recognized most of it, there were some parts I didn't know. Did you really tell me everything? Or am I losing my marbles at long last? Oh help! Anyway my dear, I hope that you come visiting soon, though if circumstances prevent you from coming later than you'd like, of course we will understand. Bilbo._ "

Her brow furrowed at the letter, thoughts whirling within the halls of her mind. She weighed her options, not particularly liking either of them, but there really wasn't anything else she could do. The time had finally come. Taking another bite from her apple, she sat at the little desk provided for her, withdrew a sheet of creamy parchment, an ink bottle, and a quill from its drawers and laying them before her. Dipping the quill into the ink, she took a deep breath and began.

_My dear Bilbo._

Crunch. The moist, juicy flesh of the apple tasted pleasantly tart.

_You asked me if I had told you everything there was to know about my adventures. And while I can honestly say I have told you the truth, I may not have told you all of it._

A secret smile, as the juice of the apple stained her lips.

_I have grown, Bilbo. I'm not the same girl I once was._

Dip. The scratching sound of the quill against the parchment.

_I think it is time for you to know what really happened. It began long ago, in a land far away to the east, the like of which you will not find in the world today._

She glanced out the window. Underneath the same sky, Bilbo was sitting somewhere, his nose buried in a book or smoking his beloved Old Toby. Smiling briefly, she turned back to her letter.

_There was the city of Dale. Its markets known far and wide, full of the bounties of vine and vale. Peaceful, and prosperous. For this city lay before the doors of the greatest kingdom in Middle-earth: Erebor. Stronghold of Thrór, King under the Mountain, mightiest of the dwarf lords._

__Thrór_ ruled with utter surety, never doubting his house would endure, for his line lay secure in the lives of his son and grandson. Oh Bilbo. Erebor. Built deep within the mountain itself, the beauty of this fortress city was legend. _ _Its wealth lay in the earth, in precious gems hewed from rock, and in great seams of gold, running like rivers through stone. The skill of the dwarves was unequalled fashioning objects of great beauty out of diamond, emerald, ruby, and sapphire. Ever they delved deeper, down into the dark. And that is where they found it. The heart of the mountain. The Arkenstone. _Thrór_  named it 'The King's Jewel'. He took it as a sign, a sign that his his right to rule was divine. All would pay homage to him, even the great Elvenking, Thranduil._

_However..._

She bit her lip.

_As the great wealth of the dwarves grew, their store of goodwill ran thin. No-one knows exactly what began the rift. The elves say the dwarves stole their treasure. The dwarves tell another tale. They say the Elf-King refused to give them their rightful pay. It is sad, Bilbo, how old alliances can be broken, how friendships between peoples can be lost._

"And for what?" she asked herself quietly, huffing inwardly at the stubbornness of elves and dwarves alike. 

_But the years of peace and plenty were not to last. Slowly, the days turned sour, and the watchful nights closed in. _Thrór_ 's love of gold had grown too fierce. A sickness had begun to grow within him; it was a sickness of the mind. And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow._

Her eyes shut slowly, as she felt a headache coming on. Marvellous. Opening her eyes, she continued.

_The first they heard was a noise like a hurricane coming down from the north. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in a hot, dry wind. The second was a bone-rattling, skin-crawling sound that struck fear into even the bravest man's heart._

_It was a fire drake from the north. Smaug had come._

_Such wanton death was dealt that day, for this city of men was nothing to Smaug; his eye was set on another prize. For dragons covet gold, with a dark and fierce desire. And _Thrór_ , with his love of gold, had all but invited the dragon to the heart of his homeland._

_Erebor was lost, for a dragon will guard his plunder as long as he lives._

_Why did no-one help, you will ask? Men from Dale were either dead or dying, and other Dwarven cities were too far to assist. The closest was the king of Mirkwood. But_ _Thranduil would not risk the lives of his kin against the wrath of the dragon. No help came from the elves that day, or any day since._

 _Robbed of their homeland, the dwarves of Erebor wandered the wilderness, a once mighty people brought low._ _The young dwarf prince took work where he could find it, labouring in the villages of men, but always he remembered the mountain smoke beneath the moon, the trees like torches blazing bright, for he had seen dragon fire in the sky, and his city turned to ash, and never forgave, and he never forgot._

A soft smile spread slowly over her pink lips as she began to remember.

 _That, my dear Bilbo, is where I come in. For quite by chance (and the will of a Wizard!), fate decided I would become part of this tale. It began...well, it began as you might expect. In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, full of worms and smells; this was a Hobbit-hole, and that means good food, a warm hearth, and all the comforts of home._..


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our darling girl is brought to the fore and Gandalf trolls.

An unusual case, the Hobbits agreed, as they watched a young woman tucking her purchases into her basket; but a most intriguing one. All Hobbits are curious, especially the women-folk, and they were all curious to know just where Bilbo Baggins' little ward had come from. Oh, he said he had found her out in East Farthing Woods, and they believed him, no doubt about that. Bilbo was a quiet, honest fellow, and they never had any reason to doubt him before.

When Bilbo had found her lying unconscious and bloodied on the road, naturally he'd panicked, thinking that she'd been murdered. Obviously, that wasn't the case, so he'd brought her to Bag End, so she could rest and recover before going on her merry way. Except that she didn't. The poor girl didn't remember a single thing about herself - her kin, her home, even her name was forgotten to her. She'd been very lucky indeed, when Master Baggins had agreed that she could stay with him as long as she liked, and that was nearly four years ago. Along with her new home, Bilbo had given her a name: Aiyna Baggins. So that was what they called her, and the Shirefolk grew to accept her. She was merry and sweet, but more than once, a Hobbit lad who'd been a bit too free with his hands had been exposed to the young Miss Baggins' explosive temper.

The results were always a sight to see.

Aiyna opened the little round door of Bag End, stepped out into the sunshine and stretched. Everything was calm, quiet, and picturesque. All in all, another mundane day in the Shire. Aiyna sighed before going down the little steps to fetch the letters from their cubby-hole. As she shut the opening, letters in hand, a shadow fell across the garden and she turned. A tall man with a pointed hat, grey robes, and a long grey beard stood outside the small gate and looked around as if lost.

"Good morning," Aiyna said, smiling politely.

"What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good, on this particular morning? Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?" The man questioned which made Aiyna want to laugh as well as gape at him in confusion.

"I...suppose I wish you a good morning," Aiyna answered hesitantly. The grey man smiled.

"It's good to see some people still have their manners," he said, chuckling, "Tell me my dear, is there a Mr. Baggins around?"

"Yes," a voice answered, and both the man and Aiyna glanced up to see Bilbo standing just outside the front door, puffing away at his pipe, "Can I help you?"

"That remains to be seen," the grey man answered, eyeing Bilbo up and down. "I am looking for someone to share in an adventure."

"An adventure?" Bilbo questioned, taking his pipe from his mouth for a moment, "Now I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner." His gaze slid to Aiyna. "You have the post? Good girl," he said, holding out a hand for the sheaf of letters, which Aiyna quickly handed to him. He shuffled through the letters, making little noises, then glanced back at the grey man and turned to go back inside with a "Good morning." and a closed door.

"To think that I should have lived to be 'good morning'-ed by Belladonna Took's son, as if I were selling buttons at the door! " the man grumbled. Aiyna glanced back at him.

"Do you know Mr. Baggins?" she asked, her grey eyes lighting with curiosity.

"Of course I know Bilbo, and he knows my name, but not that I belong to it. I'm Gandalf! And Gandalf means...me," the man now known as Gandalf replied. "Tell Bilbo it's decided. It'll be very good for him, and most amusing for me. I shall tell the others."

"I'm sorry? What others?" Aiyna said, bewildered. Gandalf had only just opened his mouth when a call came from inside.

"Aiyna!" Bilbo yelled, "I need you!"

"I'm sorry, I'd better go into him. Good morning!" Aiyna said, as she darted inside, shutting the door with a bang.

"I'm running late," Bilbo said briskly, folding some handkerchiefs into his pack. "Paladin Took, my cousin, managed to get himself into another scrape up in Bree. I'm going up to see what I can do."

"How long will you be gone?" Aiyna asked quietly, folding a spare waistcoat into his pack.

"I'll be back by tomorrow evening, don't worry," Bilbo replied as he stuffed some bread and cheese in his pocket before shouldering his pack, "Now, Mrs. Gamgee is just in the next hole, so if anything happens-"

"I'll go straight to her," Aiyna chanted along. Bilbo narrowed his eyes at her jokingly, then reached up and patted her cheek.

"You're a good girl," he murmured, his face creased into a strange expression.

"Master Bilbo?" she asked curiously. "What on earth is the matter?"

Her words seemed to rouse him from whatever thoughts had placed such an expression on his face. "It's nothing dear. I'll be back by dinner time tomorrow. Goodbye!"

Aiyna stood at the door, watching carefully as he made his way down the hill, and disappeared into East Farthing wood. Sighing, she went back inside. She felt like doing some baking this afternoon.

In the evening, Aiyna was nibbling on a slice of buttered toast as she waited for the fish to finish cooking. She had spent the afternoon baking, had just had a warm bath and was brushing her hair out luxuriously, the golden waves gleaming in the firelight. The bell ringing made her look up. More than likely, it was Mrs. Gamgee come to check up on her. Thank goodness she had changed into some clean clothes rather than her nightdress. She was not prepared as she opened the door to find a bulky, balding dwarf standing before her.

"Dwalin, at your service," the dwarf said with a bow, never taking his eyes off her. Uncertainly, Aiyna returned the bow.

"Aiyna Baggins, at yours sir," she said as he thrust his cloak at her and let himself in.

"Got anythin' to eat? I'm starved," he grumbled, making his way to the kitchen. Aiyna hung up his cloak and followed quickly, watching wide-eyed as Dwalin tucked into the fish and fried vegetables hungrily. Another ring at the door made Aiyna jump, a feeling of dread beginning to creep through her veins.

"That'll be the door," Dwalin said ominously around a mouthful. Wincing inwardly, Ainya slowly made her way to the door,and hesitantly pulled the door open. She peeped out cautiously to see an old dwarf with a long white beard and hair smiling at her.

"Balin, at your service," he said pleasantly, bowing.

"Good evening," Aiyna replied, smoothing her skirt nervously.

"Yes, yes it is," Balin turned to look at the sky. "Though I think it might rain later. Am I late?"

"For what?" Aiyna asked, bamboozled as to why strange dwarves were flocking to Master Bilbo's house. But Balin did not answer her unfortunately. He saw Dwalin behind her, trying to get more biscuits from a jar.

"Oh, ha ha!" Balin chortled, stepping inside. "Evening, brother."

"Oh, by my beard, you are shorter and wider than last we met." Dwalin put his arms on Balin's shoulders with affection.

"Wider, not shorter," Balin corrected. "Sharp enough for both of us."

The dwarves both laughed, a deep bass sound before smashing their foreheads together. Ainya winced. Dwalin and Balin moved the pantry, examining the food and chattering away to each other. Ainya had never been as flustered before as she was now. Master Bilbo had had visitors before, even many visitors, but she had always known them beforehand. They had been other hobbits too. And if Master Bilbo had ever gone away, he had always told her if someone would be coming. He had not done so today.

"Have you eaten?" Dwalin muttered to Balin.

"Ah, that looks very nice indeed," Balin said pointing to something.

"What's this?" Dwalin asked, holding up the blue cheese.

"I don't know. It's gone blue."

"It's riddled with mould," Dwalin commented, looking disgusted. He then took the cheese from Balin and threw it on the floor.

"Ah, now fill it up, brother, don't stint. I could eat again, if you insist."

Balin handed Dwalin a tankard to be filled with ale. In the background, Ainya heard a knock on the door. When she answered it, she was greeted with the sight of two more dwarves. She groaned.

"Fili-" the blond dwarf said.

"And Kili-" the dark one continued.

"At your service!" They both said at the same time, both bowing. These dwarves were much - well, cleaner looking than what she was used to. These two boys looked much neater and refined but had a cheeky look on their faces.

"You must be Mrs. Boggins," Kili said with a smile.

"No, you can't come in, you've come to the wrong house," Ainya said hurriedly, trying to close the door, but Kili stopped it with his foot, looking worried.

"What? Has it been cancelled?"

"No one told us!" Fili cut in.

"Can-? No, nothing's been cancelled," Ainya replied, slapping a hand to her face when she realised what she just said.

"Well, that's a relief." Kili said with a grin. The dwarves pushed their way inside, and slammed the door behind them. Once through, both began unloading their items into Ainya's arms.

"Careful with these, I just had 'em sharpened," Fili warned with a grin, handing Ainya his sword and knives. Kili was behind him, looking around at the house.

"It's nice, this place. D'you you do it yourself?"

"Err..."

"Fili, Kili, come on, give us a hand," Dwalin said, suddenly appearing.

"Master Dwalin," Kili said, a huge smile on his face. The dwarves all laughed before making their way towards the dining room.

"Let's shove this in the hallway, otherwise we'll never get everyone in," Balin said, gesturing towards the table.

"Ev-everyone? How many more are there?" Ainya said weakly.

"Where do you want this?" One of the twins asked Balin about the table. Once again, a knock sounded at the door, far louder than before. Ainya spun and began making her way towards the door, her explosive temper starting to rise. The weapons in her arms were thrown to the floor as her face began to heat in her temper.

"Oh no. No, no! Go away, and bother somebody else!" she snapped in anger, ducking under the doorway arch as she entered the hall. "There's far too many dwarves in here as it is. If this is Mungo Underhill's idea of a joke, I can only say, it is in very poor taste."

Ainya yanked open the door and a heap of dwarves poured onto the floor in front of her in a large heap. They started shoving, pulling and pushing at each other to get up, grumbling and griping all the while. Behind them, stood Gandalf, with an apologetic look in his eyes.

"Gandalf," she groaned.


	3. Chapter Two

"I should have known," Aiyna moaned, cradling her head in her hands as the Wizard stood over her. "Do you have  _any_  idea what Master Bilbo is going to say when he finds out about this?"

"Well, that will not take very long, my dear," Gandalf said, far too cheerfully for Aiyna's liking as the entire group of dwarves began raiding the pantry, chattering and arguing with each other at the top of their voices. The round one with the red braided beard, Bombur, waddled out of the pantry with three wheels of cheese.

"Excuse me. A tad excessive, isn't it?" Aiyna asked as she stared at Bomur beadily, "Have you got a cheese knife, at least?"

The dwarf shrugged and continued on his way, as Gandalf let out a booming laugh.

"Cheese knife?" he repeated, "My dear, he eats it by the  _block_."

"Oh Valar," Aiyna groaned, as two dwarves tramped through the hall carrying chairs. Their companions were darting between the pantry, the kitchen and the dining room. A grey-haired dwarf approached Gandalf with a tray and some tea.

"Excuse me, Mr. Gandalf, can I tempt you with a nice cup of chamomile tea?" he asked politely.

"Oh, no thank you, Dori. A little red wine for me, I think," Gandalf answered, his eyes trained on the girl before him. Her head snapped up, clear grey eyes focusing on Dori.

"I'll have it," she mumbled, taking the cup from the tray that the dwarf offered, "I can feel one of my legendary headaches coming on."

"Oh dear," he replied, brow furrowing. "I'll get some honey for you, lass. Best thing for a headache, I find."

"Yes, thank you," she muttered, sipping at the tea as one hand rubbed at her left temple irritably.

"Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin," Gandalf mumbled, counting on his fingers, "Dwalin, Balin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori...Ori."

Dori came back with the little jar of honey, just as a dwarf with a chunk of axe firmly embedded into his forehead approached Gandalf, talking to him rapidly in a strange tongue and gesturing with his arms.

"Yes, you're quite right, Bifur. We appear to be one dwarf short."

"He is late, is all," Dwalin called as he carried a barrel of ale into the kitchen, "He travelled North to a meeting of our kin. He will come."

"Here you go, lass," Dori fussed, tipping a good dollop of it into Aiyna's teacup, "It'll soon be gone."

"Thank you, Master...?"

"Dori, at your service Mrs. Baggins," he said, bobbing his head slightly. Aiyna blinked.

"Oh no, I'm not  _Mrs_ _._ Baggins at all!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide, "Master Bilbo just takes care of me!"

"Oh, I beg your pardon, lass," Dori apologised, "We all thought...well, never mind."

Aiyna growled and sipped her tea. It really did seem to be helping her headache.

"Mr. Gandalf?"

"Hmmm?" Gandalf replied distractedly.

"A little glass of red wine, as requested. It's, eh, got a fruity bouquet," Dori replied, holding up a tiny glass. Aiyna choked back a giggle. No, not a glass, she corrected herself, an  _egg cup_. Oh dear.

"Ah, Cheers." Gandalf said with a smile before downing the egg cup of wine Dori offered him, pouting slightly at the cup, when there was no more.

* * *

The dwarves, sitting in Bilbo's dining room, were having a grand feast with all Bilbo's food, with even more in the kitchen, awaiting consumption. Dwalin had tried ordering Aiyna to fetch some of it, but she had studiously ignored him, focusing instead on her sewing, stabbing the needle through Master Bilbo's shirt with a little more force than was necessary.

"Bombur, catch!" Bofur yelled, tossing a boiled egg at him.

Bombur caught the food in his mouth, and everyone cheered, even as half of it fell out and became entangled in his beard. Everyone began throwing food around, making Ainya's upper lip curl in disgust. Fili walked on top of the table, carrying several cups of ale and knocked aside the food in his way with his filthy boots.

"Who wants an ale?" he yelled, grinning at Aiyna's thunderous expression, "There you go, Nori."

"Let him have another drink!" Dwalin roared.

"Here you go!" Fili bellowed, handing a tankard to Dwalin.

Dwalin poured the ale into Oin's hearing trumpet, and as Oin spluttered in anger, everyone else laughed. Oin put his hearing trumpet to his mouth and blows the ale out of it, making it squeak and splutter horribly. One of the dwarves ( _Kili_ , Aiyna thought grimly), yelled, "On the count of three!" The dwarves pounded their tankards together excitedly.

Fili counted out, "One!...Two!"

The entire room fell silent as they began slurping their tankard of ale. They were incredibly messy, ale washed all over their faces and trickled down their beards. When they finished drinking, they begin a burping competition. The youngest, Ori, let out the biggest burp, that shook the chandelier. The dwarves laughed, thumping a pleased Ori on the back. Aiyna looked away in disgust.

* * *

"Excuse me, but that is a  _doily_ , not a dishcloth!" Ainya said pointedly, as Nori attempted to wipe the table with one.

"But it's full of holes!" Bofur exclaimed, glancing up from his ale.

"It's  _supposed_  to look like that, it's crochet!"

"Oh, and a wonderful game it is too, if you got the balls for it."

"Oh,  _someone_  save me from these dwarves!" she groaned. "I'd even settle for Mungo Underhill at this rate!"

"My dear Aiyna, what on earth is the matter?" Gandalf asked concernedly.

"What's the matter?" she repeated slowly through gritted teeth. "I'm  _surrounded_  by dwarves. What are they doing here?"

"Oh, they're quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them," he replied, blue eyes watching amusedly as Nori and Bofur began a tug-of-war with a string of sausages.

"I don't  _want_  to get used to them!" Aiyna growled, her hair tumbling wildly about her shoulders, "The state of the kitchen! There's mud in the carpet, they've pillaged the pantry. I'm not even going to  _tell_  you what they've done in the bathroom; they've all but destroyed the plumbing. I don't understand what they're doing in this house!"

"Excuse me." Aiyna glanced to her left, where the youngest dwarf stood, a plate in his hand. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?"

"Here you go, Ori, give it to me," Fili said cheerfully as he snatched the plate from Ori and threw it to Kili, who tossed it behind his back to Bifur, who stood serenely at the sink in the kitchen. Bifur caught it deftly behind his back, without even bothering to look. Kili, Fili, and a couple of other dwarves began throwing the plates, bowls, and utensils to each other, eventually throwing them to the sink to be washed. As crockery flew through the air, Gandalf ducked to avoid getting hit as he casually lit his pipe. The remaining dwarves sitting at the table began drumming on the wood, setting a rhythm as they banged with knives, forks and their fists.

"Can you  _not_  do that?" Aiyna snapped, "You're doing my head in - and you'll blunt them!"

"Ooh, d'hear that, lads?" Bofur mocked, "She says we'll blunt the knives."

The others laughed, and Kili began to sing. The other dwarves joined him, as the crockery continued to fly through the air.

" _Blunt the knives, bend the forks_  
 _Smash the bottles and burn the corks_  
 _Chip the glasses and crack the plates_  
 _That's what Mrs Baggins hates!_  
 _Cut the cloth and tread on the fat_  
 _Leave the bones on the bedroom mat_  
 _Pour the milk on the pantry floor_  
 _Splash the wine on every door_  
 _Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl_  
 _Pound them up with a thumping pole_  
 _When you've finished, if any are whole_  
 _Send them down the hall to roll_  
 _That's what Mrs Baggins hates!_ "

"By the Valar, my name is  _Aiyna_! And I'm  _not_  Master Bilbo's wife! Bloody dwarves!" she shrieked, huffing in anger as she stomped towards the kitchen, only to find all the dishes stacked neatly and cleanly. The dwarves and Gandalf laughed merrily. Suddenly, three loud knocks boomed on the door, and everyone fell silent. Slowly, Gandalf spoke, his voice solemn and almost eerie.

"He is here."


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Aiyna learns of a Quest

The dwarf at the door was unlike the others, he stood with great purpose and had an air of power about it. He was very tall, and his long, dark hair, laced with traces of silver that glinted in the moonlight, hung in waves around his face. The drape of his cloak showed he was broad-shouldered, and solidly built. Aiyna peeped out at him from behind - well, she wasn't quite sure of the dwarves' names yet, but he had a chunk of axe embedded in his forehead.

"Gandalf," he said pleasantly, stepping inside and removing his cloak. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

"Mark?" Aiyna repeated, as Gandalf shut the door with a click, "There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!"

"There is a mark; I put it there myself," Gandalf interjected sheepishly, clearing his throat at the look Aiyna shot at him, "Aiyna Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

"So, this is the Hobbit," Thorin said softly, circling Aiyna in a way that made her feel  _very_  uncomfortable. "Tell me, Mrs. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"It's  _Miss_ ," Aiyna said pointedly, folding her arms. "And I'm not a-"

"Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?"

"I fail to see why that's relevant."

"Thought as much," he scoffed, turning to the others, "She looks more like a tavern girl than a burglar."

The dwarves all laughed, patting their leader on the back. Aiyna fumed as she met Gandalf's gaze.

"He makes quite the impression doesn't he, my dear?" he asked innocently.

"I don't like him," she stated baldly, pointing a finger at the Dwarf leader. "You, sir, are a judgemental pig." She huffed, crossing her arms and pushing her way to the kitchen as his face darkened. "And unfortunately, since you're a guest, I've to feed you." The company stood in shocked silence as an audible "Dammed dwarf." snaked its way out from the kitchen where their hostess banged utensils around as she made something or other for their leader.

* * *

A while later, Thorin tucked into a small bowl of soup and a hunk of bread, while Aiyna sat sewing in the corner again, her face pinched in displeasure.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin asked after he took a draught of his ale, "Did they all come?"

"Aye," Thorin replied, taking a drink of his own ale. "Envoys from all seven kingdoms."

"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? " Dwalin asked as the others murmured their joy. "Is Dain with us?"

Thorin shifted uncomfortably in his chair before replying, "They will not come. They say this quest is ours, and ours alone."

"You're going on a quest?" Aiyna asked amid the groans of disappointment, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Aiyna, my dear, let us have a little more light," Gandalf requested. Putting her sewing down, Aiyna slipped into the kitchen and returned a few moments later with a candle, just as Gandalf was spreading a large piece of parchment on the table. "Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak."

"The Lonely Mountain," Aiyna read over Gandalf's shoulder.

"Aye," Gloin said amid groans of people who'd heard this more than once. "Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time."

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold," Oin explained, " _'When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.'_ "

"What beast?" Aiyna asked, her fingers clenching.

"Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age," Bofur explained, "Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meathooks, extremely fond of precious metals-"

"Yes, I know what a dragon is," she snapped, sitting down and threading her needle yet again.

"I'm not afraid! I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of the Dwarfish iron right up his jacksie!" Ori exclaimed, standing up. The others jeered at him.

"Sit down!" Dori scolded, pulling the young dwarf back into his chair.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us," Balin snapped. "But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best." He paused. "Nor brightest."

"What did he say?" Oin bellowed over the ruckus his kinsmen were causing.

"We may be few in number, but we're fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf!" Fili bellowed, thumping his fist on the table.

"And you forget, we have a  _wizard_  in our company," Kili enthused, "Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time."

"Oh, well, now, uh, I-I-I wouldn't say that, I-" Gandalf stuttered. Aiyna smirked from her corner. Let the wizard squirm. It certainly appeased her temper.

"How many, then?" Dori asked.

"Uh, what?"

"Well, how many dragons have you killed? Go on, give us a number!"

Gandalf embarrassedly started coughing on his pipe smoke; while the dwarves started bickering again. Aiyna rolled her eyes.

_This lot just love to go at each other's throats, don't they?_

She jumped as Thorin leapt from his seat in anger and bellowed something in a language she did not know. In any case, it shut the rest of the company up.

"If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too?" he snapped, his gaze flying around the table. "Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?"

"You forget: the front gate is sealed," Balin said in clipped tones amid the cheers of the others. "There is no way into the mountain."

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." Gandalf said, producing an ornately wrought key from thin air.

"How came you by this?" Thorin said in a hushed voice.

"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now," he replied, handing over the heavy key to its new owner.

"If there is a key, there must be a door," Fili said cautiously.

"These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls," Gandalf explained, pointing at a section with strange letters Aiyna had never seen before with his pipe.

"There's another way in!" Kili murmured reverently.

"Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed." The wizard sighed, his eyes scanning the parchment before him. "The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar," Ori piped up.

"Hm, a good one, too," Aiyna agreed as she stooped to pick up her sewing again. "An expert, I'd imagine."

"And are you?" Gloin asked. The room was still, every eye fixed on their hostess as she blinked at Gloin in a decidedly confused manner.

"Am I what?"

"She said she's an expert!" Oin crowed, as several of the dwarves whooped and cheered.

" **Me**?" Aiyna almost shrieked, dropping her sewing to the floor. "No! Absolutely not! I'm not a burglar; I've never stolen a thing in my life."

_At least, I don't think I have._

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Miss Baggins," Balin concurred, "She's hardly burglar material."

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," Dwalin said in a condescending tone as the dwarves started bickering. Gandalf, his expression thunderous, rose from his chair. The candles flickered and died, casting the room into darkness as a chill wrapped itself around each member of the company gathered.

" _ **Enough**! If I say Aiyna Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar she is._ " Gandalf sank back into his chair, as the candles flickered back to life and the chill left the room. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage." He turned to Thorin, a glint in his eyes. "You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Miss Baggins. There's a lot more to her than appearances suggest, and she's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know," Gandalf flicked a glance at the girl in question, who looked torn between laughing herself silly, or lunging across the table and strangling him with his own beard. "Including herself." He met Thorin's gaze again. "You must trust me on this."

"Very well. We will do it your way," Thorin conceded. "Give her the contract."

"Gandalf!" Aiyna protested as Balin held out a sheaf of paper towards her. "What's this?"

"It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth," he said calmly.

"Funeral arrangements?" she squeaked, taking the paper with shaking fingers. As she stepped out of the room to read the contract, Thorin leaned toward Gandalf.

"I cannot guarantee her safety." Thorin murmured.

"Understood."

"Nor will I be responsible for her fate."

"Agreed."

"Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any. Fair enough," she muttered to herself, "Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to la-cer-ations? Evisceration?  _Incineration_?"

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye."

"Ah."

"You all right, lass?" Balin asked sympathetically.

"Don't ask," Aiyna groaned, rubbing her forehead and cursing her vivid imagination.

"Think furnace with wings."

"Um-"

"Flash of light, searing pain, then  _Poof!_  you're nothing more than a pile of ash!"

_How is it that he can sound so cheerful about this?!_

"I-" she swallowed, as every gaze rested upon her. "I'm going to need a minute or two."

She turned and bolted out of the room. Gandalf groaned as he rose from his chair.

"Ah, very helpful, Bofur," he groused at the miner, who looked sheepish.

* * *

Gandalf found her sitting outside the front door, her head cradled in her hands.

"Another headache, my dear?" he questioned, settling himself beside her and taking a puff of his pipe. She nodded slowly.

"I get them a lot," she explained, her voice muffled. "When I try to remember, or when my imagination runs away with me." She paused. "I'll be all right, just let me sit quietly for a moment."

"I believe you've been sitting quietly for far too long," Gandalf replied calmly.

"I know I have," Aiyna said after a moment. "I want to be in control of my life again. I want to know who I  _was_ _._ Aiyna is who I am. But I'm scared of the person I may become...I know nothing of my life before I woke in Master Bilbo's home. The Shire is my home now."

"I remember a young Hobbit who always was running off in search of elves and the woods, who'd stay out late, come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies." Aiyna blinked up at him through her hair, wondering just what he was getting at now. "A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. You, my dear, are a great deal like that young Hobbit."

"How on earth did you know I'm always running off into the woods?" she asked, genuinely curious, and more than a little spooked. Gandalf chuckled.

"An educated guess, my dear. But the answers you seek are not in your books and maps; it's out there."

Aiyna bit her lip.

"I can't just go running off into the blue. I am a Baggins, of Bag End."

"If you are claiming Bilbo's blood as your own now, then you are also a Took. Did you know that Bilbo's great-great-great-great-uncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?"

"Yes," Aiyna sighed, having heard the story before.

"Well he could. In the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard it knocked the Goblin King's head clean off, and it sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And thus the battle was won...and the game of golf invented at the same time."

"You made that up," she said, a smile creeping onto her lips. She heard the wizard chuckle beside her.

"Well, all good stories deserve embellishment. You'll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back."

"Can you promise that I will come back?" Aiyna asked, her voice small and childlike as her eyes met Gandalf's.

"No," he replied after a few moments. "And if you do, you will not be the same."

"That's what I thought," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, Gandalf. I need to think this through for a while longer."

The wizard nodded kindly before standing and making his way back to the dwarves inside. Aiyna curled in on herself, resting her head on her knees as she considered the choices before her.


End file.
